The Last Path
by TheBlackBane
Summary: A combination of Fable & Dragon Age. Medieval with magical aspects. Darren is a young assassin whom grew up in a whorehouse, sold to assassins and trained to become one. On his journeys he meets many individuals, and encounters many fights. Along the way, an unexpected romance occurs. Will he survive, or will he die? Warning: gayness will be there in following chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_**The Last Path: Chapter One ''A wonderful day''**_

Another day passed by as Darren woke up in his bed, the sheets curled around his agile form, soft and glowing from the sun that shined through the open window, the curtains shadowing partially over the male. The man possessed fine looks, blessed with long strands of black that flowed down to his nape, well kept, but certainly wild, adventureous, accompanying his features with vibrant green eyes that glowed dimly in the sun's morningwake, eyelids lowering slightly to cover himself from the burst of bright. A soft sigh escaped his lips as the man eyed the ceiling in deep thought, reluctant to get up. Eventually after moments of compelling himself, he moved to the side of the bed, briefly gazing around the room that seemed to be an attic, venerable wood with cracks here and there, not too stabile if a stranger were to guess. Few rags of clothing were scattered around, with a desk aside of his bed, upon the surface lay several golden coins that the man likely stole. The man slowly pushed himself off the bed as the sheets traced along his form and lingered upon the side of the bed, not even taking the time to have little attention for making the bed look neat. He gazed about in the attic as he eventually found a white shirt, with few stains and slipped himself in it, along with a pair of trousers that held a dark brown color. The clothes were here and there abit too tight, or a bit too big, not exactly custom made, but he was not one to complain. Bare feet shuffled across the red carpet before finding his boots, securing them around his feet with a relieved sigh. Few straps were bound around his boots that posed as fashionable, if not to protect him. The male took his sweet time to get dressed, slummering down the stairs and grabbing a grape from the bowl centering the table of the room. His house, validated, was not of noble upcome, he hardly had any plates, and the furniture was rather poor.

Opening the door and locking it, he departed from his house. The grim town of Vadelore was known for its trade, having big companies buy massive amounts of silks, fruits and meat to supply them. Other than that, the town didn't eradiate royalty either. It was if not for the trade, one of the poor towns located in the continent of Serynthal, among no surprise, it was already afternoon, having slept in as per usual, his weary eyes ran over the dozen of people walking forth and back the square, shouting, screaming, yelling and talking. Most of it existed of persuasion, a salesman convincing a customer to buy the wares, or other salesmen having a hissy-fit at eachother for prices of similar products. Darren was used to it, after having lived in the town for nearly eighteen years. He began to make his way through the crowds as he eventually walked through an alley to deter from the overly overwhelming sounds that'd make most men deaf. Having walked through the alley, he made a turn to his right, a darker part of the town, no stores present here, only sheds of wood held together where the poor just barely managed to survive and hold their shelter. At the end of the road he entered a house that looked even older than his own house, but it was kept in a better state. As he walked in, he visualized a counter on his left with a man behind it, nodding politely as he walked further, passing through a door and downwards a staircase, the room dark, and unsettling to many.

 _''Just on time, Darren. Took you long enough to get yourself out of your knickers, 'ha!''_ A man spurted out towards Darren as he entered the room. The man himself was bulky, clad in dark clothing, a thick beard, and brown eyes, likely in his early fourties. Darren kept a blank expression his face, unamused as he was, he knew not to speak back, less if it was an insult in retort, he merely nodded once again. Darren moved to the table where the male stood, along with few other individuals clad in dark clothing. ' _'Oh, shut your trap, Eavan. Leave the poor kid be, aye? We need him t'get us money''_. Eagan looked at the other with a visable scowl, muttering to himself. The male in question seemed younger, possibly in his early thirties, blonde hair bound back in a low tail, blue eyes, and a light stubble on his jawline. He was named Saren, the leader of the organisation Darren was in. _''Right then. Now we're all here, let's get to the point. We've a contract of a noblewoman needing to be killed. She's having an affair, and the wife of the man in question isn't very pleased with it. Your job is to kill her Darren, make it look like an accident as possible''._ Darren nodded once again as he tilted his head, gazing to Eavan briefly before gazing back to Saren. _''I'll get it done''._ Saren smiled pleasantly as his right index-finger tapped a point on the map upon the table. _''She is going to meet Lord Maneson this evening at this spot. You will need to tail her and finish her off on the way''_ Eavan mumbled again as he eyed Darren with a look of discontempt, possibly a grudge for the new recruit. _''This pisspot can't even tear apart wet tissue paper, Saren, lest he kill someone''._ Saren averted his visual to Eavan, his stare deadly and hinting Eavan to silence himself, which he did. After moments, Saren looked back at Darren. _''As I was saying, you kill her. You can make use of your daggers. Poison. Your..charms, or anything else you can think of. Be creative.- Now, get going and prepare yourself''._ Darren made a mild bow in respect, mainly towards Saren and the others that were present, evidently not one to put up with Eavan's bickering. He moved back up the stairs, and went to the male behind the counter. _''I need wine, and a stall''._ The man looked at Darren with confused eyes, rubbing over his bald head before shrugging. '' _Whatevah y'want kid''._ A few hours later, nearing the evening, a stall was set up at the less crowded side of the square, bottles of fine, of rather decent quality, with glasses set for tasting. Darren worse a different oufit, his white stained shirt replaced by a dark black short, embroided with golden lining, and matching trousers and boots, making him look valid as salesman. As the evening approached, Darren kept at his stall, having sold wine, but kept plenty left. He was waiting. Waiting for his target. The sun left its bright gaze and instead moved over the horizon to let darkness scatter over the town. A cool breeze spread and the yelling became less. It worried Darren. It worried the young man that the circumstances would fail his plan. But he was in luck.

His target, Lady Lonsaile became visable on the other side of the square, and she needed to pass his stall to get to Lord Maneson. She seemed in a hurry as she trampeled over the square towards Darren's direction, avoiding eye-contact with anyone seeking it. _''My lady, can I have a moment, please? Do you care for my speciality of tonight? Lorene's Red Wine? It's well known''_ , Darren adressed the women with, his voice charming and seductive, but convincing, only one part, the other part were his looks that made it even harder to resist. She stood still as her eyes gazed towards the male, hesistant, but approaching him. ''Oh, Lorene's Red? I love that wine, sir. How much for a glass?'' Darren had a certain glint in his eyes, a snake having catched his prey, and she was only walking on her own volution deeper into the nest. _''For you, my lady? A beautiful lady like you, a glass of wine is for free''_ , he offered her a smile a she took a specific glass before pouring the wine within, extending his hand with the glass to offer, his emerald green eyes unfaltering from locking onto her. She curtisied as she took the glass and smiled. _'''Thank you, kind sir. What may be your name?''_ Darren chuckled lowly as he offered her a bow in return. _''Tamlen, dear lady, could you indulge me with yours?''_ -'' _You may call me Raia'',_ she added before taking a sip of her wine, pleased by the taste. ''But I will have to take my leave now, Tamlen. I have an appointment''. Darren leaned back, locking arms behind himself as he nodded. _''Ofcourse, let me not delay you, it has been a pleasure''._ After she left, Darren was positive the poison within the glass would be absorbed by the wine, killing the woman only minutes after. She never made it to her secret lover. Darren kept the stall up to uphold the act, after a few hours having closed it down and moved back to his house. The next morning, after a good night's sleep, the onyx haired male woke up to another burst of Light in his room, pleasant at times, though he was exhausted from last night. He put on the same outfit, and made his way back outside to the other house, making sure he wasn't being followed by any other individual, blending in with the crowd, and subtly having made his way through the alleyways. Darren smiled at the bald man at the counter, and the male grunted lowly, in surprise Darren's tactic worked. Darren didn't look cocky, but he certainly was proud of himself, though, if she is indeed dead, is unknown. He moved down the stairs again and all eyes were on him. His expression was ataken back for a moment, his tanned skin running pale as he inhaled sharply for air, covering his fear. He despite all eyes on him, moved forth and gazed at Eavan before eying Saren. Saren stood silently there, staring at Darren with deadly blue eyes, determined, intimidating, the young man was in awe. The entire room was silent as only breathing was heard. Eventually Saren grinned and smashed a fist on the center of the table. _''You bloody did it! She is dead. And everyone thought she died because of a bad heart. Nobody further questioned it, and the wife is happy''._ Darren begun breathing again as he smiled nervously, relieved. _'''Welcome to the Crows of Serynthal''_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Last Path: Chapter Two _''The Beginning''_**

 _ **Vadelore [town]. Sernythal [Continent]**_

So it began, Darren became a Crow of Sernythal, one of the most infamous assassins in the continent, well known for their riches, women and men, and excellent skills. Few years passed since that moment, the moment that Saren declared Darren became an official Crow. The young man grew up into an adult with plenty of melee experience, subtlety and stealth. However despite the fact he was with them for nearly ten years, they couldn't accept someone to become an official Crow under the age of eighteen, such is their rule, among many others un-named. Darren his house made a grave improvement considering the furniture, and the former venerable wood was replaced, making the house look legit and rather a shadow from its former poor build. The attic of the house was royally adorned, indulged with silken red curtains near the window, and the bed held sheets of white that were soft to the touch. In summary, one could guess Darren moved out, a nobleman redecorated the place and moved in.

Surprisingly enough, Saren and Darren became good friends over the years despite the age differences, Saren being in his mid-thirties now, whilst Darren was in his early twenties. Despite all efforts of Eavan to make the young man unwanted within the Crows, tying to usurp everyone up against him, the old male doesn't seem to have succeeded. Saren in fact, took Darren up as his apprentice, which made the two spend alot of time together training, going over tactics and the best kind of weaponry to use, it's no surprise Saren vouched plenty of times for his apprentice to do most of the missions that required a young blood, charming, handsome and smart. With the years passing, the town of Vadelore has made some improvement aswell, the trade was still present, but even more crowded than before, more people from all over Sernythal visited the town for the best and most famous crafters of swords, furniture and breeders of wine. One of Darren's speciallity was the fact he made nearly every assassination of his look like an accident, which provided to be most handy in his line of work.

The Crows of Serynthal were preparing for something big this time. The Crucible. It was help up North in the darker parts of the continent, up in Vilewood where everyone began to gather for it. It was held each year to pick out the most skilled fighters. It consisted of fighting to death, no matter what. Some say it was horrible and inhuman, whilst at other times people were in thrill of the bloodshed, excited. This year someone of the Crows would be participating, but whom wasn't decided yet. There were doubts, since Eavan was too old. Saren was the leader, which made it dangerous, and Darren was the beloved apprentice of the Leader. Either of those deceasing would endanger the Crows, and perhaps cause havoc and turmoil in the ranks. Saren eyed Darren with his usual blue eyes that looked weary from sleep depravity, although not letting it affect him. Countless of nights having argued with the officers made it a tough decision. _''I'm going myself, Darren. You're too young to die, and despite you signed up for this, unknowing when you'll die, we need you. You're aspiring to become more skilled than all of us''._ Darren pursed his lips and remained silent, eying Saren with a thoughtful gaze, arms folded across his chest as locks of black ran down his features. _''Very well. I trust your decision, Saren. But don't think I won't come to look, yes?''._ The older man stared at Darren in disagreement, but he knew Darren was stubborn and persistent, he'd keep pushing until Saren gave in. _''Alright then. But if I die, dare not to help'' ._ His words rang hollow, devoid of emotions, as if it was the most hardest thing Saren ever had to say, and he was known for never showing his feelings.

Darren inhaled sharply through his nose as he shook his head, agitated, conflicted. His verdant green eyes lingered down momentarily as he eventually sighed. ' _'I respect your decision'',_ the man spoke, in a lowered tone. Afterwards lowering his arms to turn on his heels for departure from the headquarters, but was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder, Saren's. _''I trained you to set aside emotions. You're an assassin. Never forget that''._ Darren shrugged the hand of his shoulder and spoke whilst walking. _''I know''._ Walking out of the house and back to his own. He went upstairs instantly after having locked the door, plunging himself onto his bed with a deep grunt, his arms crossed over his face, deep in thought, frustration eradiating from the man. He wasn't pleased by all of this. He achieved alot of things, and if Saren were to die, it might've been in vain, the Crows would seperate and he would loose his income. He turned to the side as his eyes moved up to the sun that was about to leave, evening nearing as cold ran into his room, a shiver running down his spine as his eyes closed tightly, a darker memory overcoming him. ' _'I was a young child when I became part of the whorehouse I grew up in. I never knew my father, and my mother died during childbirth. I was alone. And then I was sold. Sold to..the Crows. It changed my life forever'',_ \- these thoughts ran through his mind, inhaling deeply as he afterwards fell asleep.

The next morning Darren woke up with a mild headache, likely from over-thinking, which led to stress. _''Bas'vas..''_ he mumbled before he rubbed his emerald eyes with his fingertips, downwards his features. Sighing out deeply as he stood up, remaining on the side of his bed as he buried his face in his palms, elbows set upon his knees as the black strands swooped down all over his features, making him look depressed, emotional. After minutes having passed, he lowered his palms to his sides on the bed-sheets, eyes directed towards the set of leather armor to his left. The armor he earned by passing all trials, which not many did. It was enforced, in a black color, with strappings here and there, and shoulderpads for moderate prodection. It was custom made, with a pair of fine daggers. He pushed himself up and ran the palm of his right hand across the tunic set on the mannequin, smiling softly. Moments after, he heard someone knock on his door, which alerted him, the male walked downstairs and this front door, knowing he is able to defend himself with bare hands. He unlocked the door and opened it, initially making eye-contact with brown haired male, somewhere in his thirties. He was ordinary dressed, in simple clothing which was a shirt, pants and boots, nothing else _. ''I-..I need to speak to you, D-..Tamlen. It's very important''_ he spurted out, panting as if he ran to here, sucking in breath to regain his color. Darren stared at the male with a blank expression, eying him over in inspection of hidden weaponry before he stepped to the side, motioning one hand inwards his house. The stranger nodded and smiled, walking in as the door closed behind him. Darren locked it and walked after the man, leaning against the wall with folded arms _. ''Speak''_ he demanded. The stranger seemed in awe of Darren's calm demeanour. _''Yes sir!-..I am here to inform you that someone wants to kill your leader..-..You have to hurry..''_ Darren raised an ebony eyebrow, arching it in disbelief. _''Who are you, and how do you know all this? Explain yourself.''_ The stranger nodded again. _''My name is Leran, sir. I work with you in a northern part of Serynthal..- I was sent here to warn you. There's a contract your leader, and it was ordered from up North..''_ Darren pursed his lips as he rubbed a hand over his features, wrinkling his forehead. He took his time to progress it all, whilst Leran stood there nervously infront of him, occasionally biting down his lip.

 _''And when will this be? I hope you know who is coming and where?''_ Darren asked, his tone melancholy, but soft, and held the usual charming tone. He had a certain playful accent to his words, which made him less serious for some. The stranger lowered his head as he eyed around the room before letting his gaze carefully drift back to meet with Darren's _. ''A day before the Crucible, sir..-It'll be a woman..she'll likely seduce him and then poison him..''-_ Leran added, tensing up. – '' _We don't know who exactly..but she's one of ours..''_

 _''Bas'vas'',_ Darren mumbled lowly to himself, likely cursing. ''Give me anything you know that can help. I will kill her. I will find out who'', Leran took out a scroll from his hipbag, and offered it to Darren with trembling hands. Darren took it and opened it, reading over the words written upon it. _''Afternoon..- Distraction..Poison..three-hundred Serynthian golden coins''._ His eyes widening slightly, the thought of his master dying was something he didn't want to think of. Not with the Crucible, and now a murder contract. It was pulling him and tearing him apart in deep frustration. To prevent one attempt of death on Saren, so he may on the day of the Crucible. _''She will likely be around him to get to know his likings of women. She's probably new, or unknown to him. I'll keep an eye on Saren''._ Leran bowed deeply as if admiring Darren, excusing himself. _''Can I leave now, sir? I will let you know more if we find out anything else''._ Darren moved to the door as he leaned away from the wall, unlocking it and opening it. After Leran passed through, he followed after and closed it, moving directly to the headquarters, with the neccesary blending in with the crowds and avoiding attention.

As he reached the headquarters, he paused walking. _''I can't tell them. It'll alert everyone, and she won't show up at all..'',_ he thought.

He stamped a foot on the pavement as he ran his fingers through his black strands, gritting his teeth. He decided to go inside and move to the training room, where he nodded at everyone present. Darren was well known and respected amongst the ranks, lower and higher ones. One of the same rank as him came walking towards him, prodding Darren with a finger on the center of his chest, smirking. _''You up for a spar, boy?''_ he taunted, although this male, Jethran was arrogant, but kind, he was annoying at times, but wasn't someone you'd shoot because he lives. Darren eyed down the finger before his moved his right hand to take a quick hold of the arm, stepping to the side, pulling the arm of the other downwards so Jethran lost his balance, giving him an additional kick in the back with his foot as the male collided with the floor, face digging into the wood with a scowl and gasp. _''..Okay, you win..''_ he groaned, though quickly regained his balance and folded his arms, taking a step back from Jethran on the floor. _''But laying is so much easier, no?''._ A smirk lingering in the corner of his lips. Jethran pushed himself up, face reddened from the blow, gazing around the rest that saw the spectacle, all laughing and smirking in amusement aswell. He mumbled and ran a hand over his right eye, which held a scar from above the eye to the cheek. _''Unfair..I wasn't paying attention, Darren. Fight me, come on..''_ Darren stood there with a blank stare, his vivid green eyes set onto the dark hazel ones of Jethran. _''Alright, but if I win, you will buy me shoes. Boots from Cerlais..''_ the male added. Jethran grunted, knowing those shoes are the finest, and most expensive, but he didn't want to give up now, with everyone watching the two. _''..Deal. And if I win, you'll clean my house. It's..-very- filthy''._ He grinned, provoking Darren. The other merely shrugged, hardly seeing a challenge in Jethran as they began the fight. An hour passed before Darren walked back to his house, smiling pleasantly. '' _New boots in a few days. Perfect..'',_ though the thought of The Crucible and Saren still on his mind, the male went back to his house and digged himself back into his bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Last Path: Chapter Three _''To find a Mouse''_**

It was a long sleepless night that Darren experienced, he couldn't bring himself to push away the thought a close friend could die anytime soon, and that Darren may yet be the only one to save his life. So much weight on his shoulder, pulling him down deeper as emotions overwhelmed him. The numb assassin couldn't bear the thoughts that ran through his mind. Even if he was trained to be inclined to respond in most situations without any attachment to decisions, the consequences would be on him regardless. Darren's focus would specifically be laid upon the other assassin that was sent to kill Saren. Who it might be, if Darren knew her, how skilled is she? It was a cat and mouse game. But even for Darren it was hard to say who was the mouse, and who the cat, it was a hunt, a chase.

Another day passed in Vadelore, and today was exactly a week away from the Crucible. Six days before the assassin would be striking Saren. To celebrate that the assassins of Serynthal have managed this long, and will be participating in the Crucible, well, Saren would on behalf of them, but under a different name to represent an order that aids the kingdom, incognito, less suspicion, a grand dinner would be held. All members of the Crows were present, at it was around late afternoon. A grand feast set upon a long wooden table that stretched out in a big hall, plates set upon the table with knives and forks, spoons aswell. Among the feast was seen fruit from exotic origin, bread and butter, meat that was specially seasoned, most guessed this must've cost alot, but with the income of the assassins, this was easily affordable. In the middle of the table Saren was seated, overlooking the rest of the members, next to him sat Darren and Jethran, along with Eavan who was as grumpy as ever. Everyone seemed to be enjoying their meals, but not Darren, he was rather distant from the merry mood that lingered around himself. And as grand assassin, Saren could notice this. The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully before nudging Darren's shoulder, an eyebrow raised questionably. _''Is something bothering you, Darren?''_ He inquired, his tone calm, but with a mild hint of worry, despite the calm emotionless expression the man beared on his features. Darren seemed to be oblivious to his surroundings, gazing at Saren at the nudge given, verdant green eyes blinking momentarily to gain some clarity as he rubbed his forehead, shrugging. _''Yeah, I'm fine, just not fond of crowds, you know?''._ His lips mustered themselves into a smile towards Saren whom nodded and returned the smile, quickly fading as it became apparent, tending to his meal again. Eavan sat next to Jethran was eating himself full with meat, stuffing it into his mouth like a ravenous dog, as if he was starving, though judged by his bulky form, with fat forming from the overwhelming amounts of food he consumed lately, one can say he's just a pig. Darren eyed Eavan with distaste at his manner of eating, eventually averting his gaze to Jethran whom was gazing around the hall, seemingly scanning each individual calmly, eating with manners. Darren rested his chin within his palm, he tried to specify exactly who Jethran was eying, and then he knew. Darren shook his head, Jethran was eying all the females present with a long lustful stare, as per usual. Hours passed as the feast eventually ended, and everyone made their way back tot their quarters or house. Darren walked out of the hall, only to have a hand pull him to the side away from lurking eyes. The younger male eying the man with confusion, it was Saren. Saren pressed a hand upon Darren's chest, against the wall as he leaned in, his piercing blue eyes gazing into the green ones of Darren, inches away from the other. Darren appeared puzzled, gazing to his left where the hall was before letting his gaze run back to Saren, breathing sharply. _''..Yes, Saren?''_ he asked, narrowing his eyes. _''I know there's something you aren't telling me, Darren. If it personal, you don't have to tell me, but if it endangers the Crows..'',_ The older man was clear in his words, demanding as his digits tugged tightly on Darren's shirt, exposing more of chest, though not intentionally. Saren couldn't help but to eye the exposed area, as if this moment it's the most he's seen of Darren as he's always in armor. Saren saw few scars present, but moved his eyes back to the ones of the other, who gazed at him, unfaltered. _''It's nothing. I'm just bothered by something of the past''._ The Grand Assassin sighed as he released the hold on Darren, letting the man go as he quickly walked off himself, waving as if saying it's fine.

Darren stood there with a heavy mind, confronted, and he couldn't say anything. This night Darren decided to stay at the headquarters of the Crows, having his own quarters that was luxurious, dim lights, and a warming and comforting atmosphere. His quarter was just infront of a staircase, and that staircase led up to Saren's, Darren left his door open for one reason or another, even later at night when his eyes began to droop from being tired. A black shadow sprinted along the open door, upto the staircase, which alerted him. He pushed himself off the edge of the bed and walked to the door, gazing just outside as he used his skills, silently moving up the stairs as he passed few windows, he moved up further before pausing, his head tilting as he then moved back, his hand reaching forth to the window and pulled down a figure whom put up a fight, Darren luckily managed to keep his balance as he breathed out, it was a woman, hooded, glaring at Darren as she moved in to kick him, Darren blocking the foot and twisting it, so she fell onto the staircase, rolling down, but not too far. He chased after and managed to catch up to her, but it was too late. She was too quick, like a phantom. He knew now this was her. The assassin.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Last Path: Chapter Four '' _Bait''_**

After that eventful night of failure, having the assassin at the tip of his fingers, whom escaped, Darren felt his chances of getting her grow smaller. He hoped that despite he wasn't hooded or armored, she didn't see his facial features due to the darkness that was among the staircase, it was night afterall. Darren went to sleep after that, but he did feel utterly awful at that moment, he couldn't sleep, black walls forming below his eyes, and some could notice his lack of sleep. Few days passed, closer to the day Saren could get killed. Darren became frustrated with himself and the others around him. Darren forced himself to be close to Saren daily, to keep an eye on the man for safety, to try and see if someone else would do the same, a female naturally. And he was lucky. A day before the assassin was to strike, Darren saw a leather clad woman whom was always gazing at Saren. She had long black hair, piercing golden eyes and a volupteous shaped body, slim and agile. Saren himself often eyed her aswell, and Darren started to put the pieces of the puzzle together. The outfit she wore was different from the night that they attacked eachother, and she didn't seem to know it was Darren either. The man stood against the wall behind Saren whom was reading, arms folded across his chest as the green eyes remained on the female, she was lowering her guard, growing careless and unsubtle in her actions, risking herself to be exposed. Darren eventually lowered her arms as she walked off, following behind her casually as he addressed her. _''Excuse me, miss. Are you a recruit?''_ He smiled brightly like a preying hawk, the female paused and turned to gaze at him, shaking her head. _''I believe not. And I am. My name is Sora''._ Darren inclined his head politely, _''Darren, a pleasure to meet you. Maybe we could train some together, yes? Always nice to see fresh blood''_ She nodded and smiled towards him before moving on again, walking to her room. Few hours later he stood at the outer side of the entrance to her room, seeing her fiddle between some letters in a drawer. Her right arm was exposed, and tattood upon her arm was a small black skull, perhaps a taste of her own, or a sign that she belongs with another guild. Darren couldn't validate. He waited and waited as she eventually left, luckily for him, he was quite proficient at hiding, naturally, otherwise he wouldn't be the second in command. He used a picklock on the door's lock, fiddling and twisting before at long last the door opened, moving himself in and closing the door behind him, the man initially moving to the drawer the letters or papers were in, opening the drawer and taking out the bunch. No luck. Merely transfer papers, letters to parents, likely fake, poems and the sort. But he felt something weird at the drawer's side, he moved his hand to lift a smaller piece of wood, and found a paper hidden within, placing the wood back upon the smaller seperated part of the drawer, only a skilled one could feel and see this.

He opened the paper and read it. **''** _This is the contract..-THIS- is it..Sora is the assassin..When is she striking, when..TONIGHT?''_ His eyes widened as the folded the paper and shoved it inside of his armor, moving out of the room and closed it, rushing up another staircase to the second level before reaching the third level, that staircase leading to Saren's room. He wanted to run, but he couldn't, he had to be swift and silent, because every move would be able to betray his presence. He silenty crawled up the stair to the door, listening in. He could hear Saren and Sora conversing before silent passed, then he could hear something that appeared as moans. Darren grunted lowly as he listened, the timing had to be perfect, he couldnt miss her this time. He eventually opened the door, not locked, and saw the two on the bed, rather intimate. She was ontop, moving forth and back, and he was below her, it seems his eyes were closed in pleasure as she then took out a knife. Darren initially ran and threw about five throwing knives, perfectly aimed into her spine and head, killing her upon the instant. The knife she held fell onto Saren's chest, but with the flat side, a cold chill running down Saren's spine whom was so immersed within the copulation he was in deep shock of what happened. Sora's body fell to the side of the bed and dropped down on the ground as blood oozed from her. Darren breathed heavily as closed his eyes momentarily in deep relief before rushing over to Saren, who was still naked in bed. '' _Are you alright? Saren? Are you hurt, tell me!''_ Darren yelled, the yell was only audiable to Saren, luckily, not awaking the entire tower. Sarren took the knife from his chest and placed it aside on the smaler desk next to him, leaning up with support of his elbows as he tugged some of the sheets over the lower part of his body to cover himself. His eyes widened still in trying to phantom what just happened, likely never having expected Sora to have done this. Moments passed as Darren stood there, worried, waiting. _''–..You saved my life-..how did you..''_ Darren shook his head and moved his hands infront of himself, taking out the contract and showing Saren. _''This has been going on for month, maybe years. I got a trail and I followed-..uh, I was lucky to have found her on time..''_ Saren took the paper offered and read it with narrowed eyes before sighing, as leader he knew his position was a risk for his own life aswell. He lowered it and rubbed his forehead in frustration before pulling a smirk towards Darren. _''Thanks. I owe you one. Good you've not failed me, Darren''._ Darren slowly inclined his head as his cool demeanour returned again, moving to eye the skull tattoo on Sora's arm, she was alive, apparently, but not for long. Her golden eyes glaring at Darren. _''Sk-..Skull Reign..wi-..ll..ge-..you''_ she muttered before eventually passing away, Darren tooking the liberty of closing her eyes with his fingers before sighing. _''Skull Reign..Do you know this..or them, Saren..?''_ Saren shook his head in confusion. _''No, I've never heard of that name before. I think it's time we go after them now, ge t some clues as to where and what this is..and again, I thank you, Daren''._ Darren nodded before moving back to the door. _''Get dressed. I'll alert the others and we'll get this..''_ He motioned towards Sora's corpse and the blood _''mess cleaned..''_ Saren agreed and stood up. His form was agile build, but with the neccesary build of muscles. He was lightly tanned, but not as tanned as Darren was, scars all over his body, and a clear sign of enough battles, and several assassination attempts on himself. He didn't seem to care that Darren could see his naked form, moving to get dressed. _''In ten''._ The younger male rubbed his weary eyes at Saren's form, but thought nothing further of it. Saren is his teacher, mentor, leader, friend, nothing more.

Darren moved down the stairs and rang the bell within the quarters, soon everyone became present in the meeting hall and gathered around the table. Some minutes later Saren joined in and folded his arms, eying every member of the Crows. _''You probably haven't heard yet, but just about fifteen minutes ago, someone tried to kill me. If not for Darren, I would have been dead. Therefore, even if it's not official, Darren will now be the second-in-command if I ever die or become absent, meaning he will lead this guild''_ Eavan furrowed his hairy eyebrows at Darren, mumbling and shaking his head in sheer disagreement. The rest of the members, about fifty men were rather happy with the amusement, some clarity if things may go wrong. Jethran whom was stood next to Darren nudged him and grin playfully. _''Well done. Also..''_ He hunched down and took out the pair of boots he promised Darren, offering them. _''Thanks''._ Darren took the boots and placed them aside, gazing at Saren with a sharp inhale that followed, moving to stand aside of the Grand Assassin. _''I didn't want to involve all of you as it would have been to suspicious, everyone would have been alert, and you'd be acting differently. I myself tended to investigating and managed to root out the traitor. Her corpse is within Saren's room''._ The rest nodded and eyes Saren for approval. Saren gazed around the room, a blank expression his aged features and motioned his head towards the exit. _''Get rid of the corpse''._ All went and left the room, except for Darren whom was still there, thinking, as if just the heavy burden dropped off his shoulder and made him feel weaker than ever. His thoughts still conflicted, having saved Saren, the Crucible still comes regardless.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Last Path: Chapter Five ''The Crucible''**

Darren went to his house after that evening to progresss the ordeal. The fact he was just on time to save Saren gave him some suspicions, but maybe he was just that skilled. Eitherway, the man was tired from all the effort he put into unmasking the assassin in their midst, and his eyes were craving for sleep. It has been long since the man was able to get some good shut-eye. Saying that this was something bad wasn't neccesary, he knew himself you could learn alot from this, as for example that Darren managed to do this all on his own without any assistance of anyone in the Crows. He was an independant assassin, and fit to be leader of the Crows one day when Saren's time would end. The assassin felt some relieve overcoming himself, his mind more at ease now that it has all blown over, feeling less conflicted that only the tournament was left the day after tomorrow in Vilewood. He slipped his armor off and went in his trousers to his bed, yawning as he ran his digits through his mess of ebony strands, his vibrant green eyes glowing dimly as his tanned six-pack was exposed, the sheets of him just covering the lower part of his body. His gaze ran through the open window, upto the sky as his eyes slowly closed and the man fell asleep. The next morning Darren woke up well rested, moving into his casual clothing and went to the market. He exchanged a coin to a merchant and in return was handed a delicious red apple, which he ate underway to the Headquarter of the Crows. As he arrived, he inclined his head towards the bald man behind the counter, and he in return shook his head as the usual grumpy man. Moving downwards Darren looked around as he walked into Jethran, the man evidently in deep thought that he hadn't seen or heard Darren coming. _''–..Oh. Hey, Darren. Didn't see you there. How's it going? Tomorrow's the Crucible, and we leavin' in a few hours to Vilewood''._ Darren gazed at Jethran as he took another bite from his apple whilst shrugging. _''Ready as I can be. You reckon Saren can win this? I heard alot of other good fighters are attending''._ The man rubbed the side of his throat as he chuckled. _''I'm positive Saren can handle them all''._ Darren merely nodded and moved on, which to where Jethran gave him a weird look as if Darren was being rude towards him. Sadly, Darren wasn't the very talkative type, and cherished the solitude he was able to have at times, as one said to him '' _Everything you love, you destroy''_ Such is the motto of an assassin. Detachment from emotions, as emotions would jepordize missions, thus deterring himself from even fellow assassins in the order was to himself the best choice to make.

The man moved on to the grand hall where the feast previously was held, and walked through to see Saren speak with Eavan about something, though he couldn't hear what they were conversing about, Darren's guess was the Crucible and how to handle it. He however didn't walk over towards them and just moved on to the smaller room where a fireplace was and some chairs to read or relax in. The room had few bookcases and several crests attached to the walls, likely some stolen crests from noble families. The man slipped into the chair before the fireplace and leaned back comfortably within its exterior, closing his eyes as his mind calmed down, right leg crossing the left one as his digits rested upon the chair's handrails. Moments passed before he seemed to be sensing something, an eye opening slightly to see a man on his left, opening both green eyes to gain an overview. _''Already doing nothing? You know, the others are training constantly to improve their skills and you're just doing nothing, Darren. Don't let yesterday get to your head''._ Saren said, a grin plastered upon his lips as he had his arms folded across his chest, the blue eyes set upon Darren. The man seated in response rolled his eyes as he leaned forth, elbows upon his kneecaps as his arms lazily ran down his legs. _''Give me some credit. I'm still tired from saving your hide''._ He said in response. _''We're leaving now. If you rather sit here...''_ The man waved a hand dismissively before turning on his heels, Darren heaving himself up quickly as he followed after Saren. '' _I'm coming''._ About ten men gathered to leave, mainly Darren, Saren, Jethran, Eavan and few others, the rest stayed behind to keep the Crows running the few days they were gone, nothing serious. They had a horse-carriage with supplies and some of them sat on horses as they made their way to Vilewood, eventually reaching the gates of the Crucible after a day's travel. Two guards were stood there as Saren approached them and handed them some documents, after few seconds they nodded. _''It's starting soon. When you are ready, you and your people can join in to watch you fight''._ Saren smiled pleasantly as he went back to the rest, explaining it. '' _I'll win this thing. You all watch. After this is over, we'll head to the town in Vilewood and rest there. Tomorrow we'll return back to Vadelore''._ Darren gazed at Saren with a blank stare, Saren knew Darren didn't approve of it, but said nothing about it. The others just agreed as they didn't want to go against their leader. Saren moved towards the guards again and conversed with them before the gates were opened and they all went inside of the Crucible, moving to a room where the competetors could wait before it was their turn to join in. Few were clad in heavy armor, showing tons of muscles and big axes, whilst few were light clad, equipped with guns and the like. Saren was light clad, not in his Grand Assassin armor, but in something similar, with a pair of daggers and hidden blades. Brown, green from color that warped around his muscular, yet agile frame perfectly.

Saren beckoned Darren over to himself, which Darren saw, moving over. _''Remember. Don't jeapordize this, I'll win this, I'll bleed to act the part, but do not worry''._ Darren pursed his lips and parted them as he was to say something, but resigned and remained silent, only offering Saren his usual dissaproving, blank stare. The inner gates to the arena opened and Saren was called, though under a different name: _''Aerenthil''._ Saren moved on as he walked into the big ground of the arena, the ground drought, and many -many- people were watching. The others having joined into the public as they watched. The two hosts yelling: _''And this is round one, where Aerenthil will fight Zelawi!''_ Saren took out his pair of daggers and readied himself, this..Zelawi was a human aswell, she was light clad aswell, with a pair of dagger, though she seemed rather ignorant, agressive in her actions. Not one to think and just act, unlike Saren whom used eyes and ears to determine the other's fighting style. Ofcourse..rounds went by with Saren as victor, with few scratches, nothing severe, but he indeed kept to his words with acting the part of having some bloodloss, he afterall was representing an order under the Crown of Serynthal, nobles, not the Crows themselves, so less skilled in his actions intentionally. The final round came and Saren murdered all. Now he was facing the toughest, the one that was victor of the Crucbile, year after year, after year. The huge man called _''Jack the Fierce''_ was slow in movement, but each attack powerful an deadly. Saren having the advantage of speed and wit, he managed to hit the weak spots of the hulk, using the sand to blind the massive man. Saren got hit few times, which bled him more, but the final strike to Jack made him the winner after a long fight. A one of the hosts yells: _''And there we go! Oh, that is unbelievable! Jack is down, people, Jack is down!''_ '' _Yeah, Murphy, and the winner is Aerenthil! We have a wiiiiiiiinnnneeeeer!''_ The crowd went wild and applauded, they've an addiction for the bloodshed, and Darren was relieved it was over, gladly. He watched all the rounds with a blank stare, but with worry was there. After that Saren was led to a different room within the Crucible, following down stairs as he was to be rewarded with the prize. He walked down a hallway with on each five metres a big statue of former winners as he reached the end and saw a man, the two now being alone. The stranger spoke to Saren: _''Well done. You have shown skill and thus you are crowned this year's winner of the Crucible. Plenty of gold will be sent over to the cause you represent''._ Saren nodded as his eyes remained on the man, he was in dark red robes and wore a mask, his voice husked through the mask, he wasn't exactly muscular either based on the clothing. The man motioned a hand for Saren to get closed, moving his right gloved hand to press against Saren's forehead, whom initially wanted to move away, but something stopped him. The gloved hand began to glow with an eery dark red hue, magic was at foul play and this seemed to be a spell. What kind of spell was unknown, an individual using magic was utterly uncommon in Serynthal, it was either for the bad or the good.

Darren waited and waited for Saren to come back, but nobody ever saw him again after he won the Crucible. He dissapeared. Darren looked all over and everyone said nobody saw Saren, nobody. The man was gone without a trace. Eavan was angry and cursed all over the place, whilst Jethran gazed at Darren in hope for him to tell their next move. Darren just walked forth and back with a blank stare, halting as he eyed the others. _''We're moving on. We're going to the town and then move back to Vadelore later. He's..probably delayed, and we know Saren. He'll manage''._ The rest looked at eachother and suddenly Eavan charged forth to Darren and grabbed him by the shirt and nearly lifted him from the ground. _''You fucking shittin' me, son? We've to find Saren. We ain't going without him! Damnit, you pisspot, you can't lead us!''._ The older man was infuriated as Jethran walked over and gave the older male a nudge to the shoulder, Darren however staring at Eavan without emotions, devoid of it by now. _''Let him go, Eavan. Saren said he'll be our leader, we listen to him, if you don't like it, you can leave''._ Eavan sighed deeply, releasing the male in his grip and turned about to exit the room and back towards the horse carriage. Darren nodded at Jethran and followed the rest as they made their way to the town to rest the night there. The next day they went back to Vadelore with questions on their mind. A year went by as they heard nothing of Saren. Darren assumed the rank of leader of the Crows and led them as succesfully as Saren, but lacked some knowledge Saren possesed, but he improved in that year, alot, he learned alot, mentally and physically he improved.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Last Path: Chapter Six ''Sad Times''**

Indeed. A year passed, time swept by like winds over the sea, overwhelming force created, which took everything away in an instant. Saren dissapeared like a moth in the flame, untrackable, and whatever trace was to be found of him, was instantly rejected to avoid further investigation to a possible dead man. Darren, now preclaimed Grand Assassins of the Crows of Serynthal, was still bothered by the vanishing act of his former master, the thought kept coming back, no matter how much he tried to push it away, it'd come proning back at his mind. It layed heavy on his mind, the burden that he saved his mentor only to have him gone again. It felt like a responsibillity to keep the man that learned him everything since he was young safe from was futile to keep wondering what he could've done or not, to think Saren said he shouldn't come help, and now this. No, as leader he couldn't let these thoughts conquer his mind and submit to the everlasting trepidation. The man inhaled sharply through his nose before exhaling throughout his mouth, running a hand through his black locks. The verdant green eyes lingering over the desk he's leaned upon, his surroundings oblivious to him. Silence passed as only a lit candle on his desk appeared to give light in the darkened room. The dark red curtains were closed and blocked any light source that tried to escape into the room, making the assassin on the chair look even more devious and grim. A fist closed as he leaned back, legs crossing upon the table as his head remained lowered, the hood neatly placed over his head without issue.

Moments later a knock was heard on his door, lifting a hand up to welcome the individual. _''Yes, come in''._ The door opened with a crack and a man walked in, quite lively in demanour as he strut forth, placing both hands on the desk of Darren as he leaned onto it. _''Good afternoon. Maker, why do you keep secluding ourself, Darren? Go out with me, you know, meet some people, have a good time. Sitting here won't bring him back..it really won't''._ Jethran shook his head and flashed the other man one of his playful grins. The other man in retort grunted and mumbled below his breath as his head tilted, remaining silent, this causing Jethran to lean away from the desk and maneuvre around it to Darren, giving him a light prod in the shoulder, or atleast try to, given the fact Darren is more skilled. The seated man initially raising his right hand to grip Jethran's wrist, tightening the hold as his visual lifted and locked onto his former equal. _''I am fine. I don't need your comforting words, Jethran. But thank you for your harsh words, they say the truth heals''._ Jethran tried to tug his hand loose, but to no avail as Darren pulled the arm down, slowly, bringing Jethran in aswell. Those mesmerizing green eyes of Darren were unique, unlike anything Jethran has ever seen, the man got lost in the other's eyes as his grin faded. Darren kept a blank expression before his lips parted, head tilting. _''You're my Right Hand, Jethran. Remember this. But you are also my friend, and I value that''._ Jethran arched an eyebrow, having expected something entirely different, he composed himself and inclined his head before aiming to withdraw, his wrist released. _''Many a poison can cure, provided the dosis small enough'',_ he said before moving to leave, another figure passing Jethran as he gave the figure a dissaproving look, as if holding a grudge towards the one. Walking in after Jethran was a woman, long red hair, crimson like blood in curls bound back in a tail, smiling pleasantly as she winked at Jethran. She made her way to Darren as she leaned in aswell, her cleavage overly visable for the Grand Assassin's eyes as he got lost into it. He coughed as she waved a hand infront of his visage. _''–..Yes, Loren?''._ She remained to smile as she crawled over the desk, leaning into kiss him as papers fell onto the ground, the man moving his hands along her back as he eagerly returned it before deterring from the immersed kiss. _''I can't..- not now''._

She seemed to push on, as she brought up a leg, only barely endorsed with leather to cover her skin. He groaned and shook his head, his index-finger gesturing towards the exit. Loren pursed her lips before moving out. _''Don't keep me waiting, love..''_ Darren wasn't in the mood for anything, tears forming as his eyes welled up, hands covering his face. Jethran stood aside of the door as he peered inside and eyes Darren for a while, he couldn't stand his friend was feeling like this, as if it all was his fault. He eventually left aswell. Days passed, weeks passed, months passed, and the Crows kept steady, missions were completed succesfully. This means that Darren can do his work without getting distracted, but the question is, for how long? That night Darren laid in bed, it was dark, pitch black. He was not wearing anything than his pants, contemplating. Thoughts remained to run through his mind, people flashing infront of his eyes. Jethran, Saren..Sora, Loren, and even Eavan. The door went open, but hardly heard, Darren was in light sleep as his eyes were closed. He could feel someone crawl underneath his sheets, pulling his pants down gently as the person began to lick Darren's shaft, licking the tip before taking in the growing erection. The Grand Assassin moaned lowly in pleasure as his digits spread, tensing up. The man felt unimaginable pleasure, he was no virgin, that was guaranteed with all the wealth and women he could afford. The sucking kept going on as his member was fully erected, the figure under the sheets kept sucking, faster, deeper as pushing to the limits. Darren thinking Loren was doing this, because she was so lustful before, so he wouldn't suspect anyone else. The man felt heath rising up in his body, eyes closing even tighter as his head tilts back and to the side, his hips slowly thrusting along with the sucking motion, it was driving him crazy as he eventually froze, ejaculating as he filled the mouth of the other with a load of hot sticky sperm. Moments passed before the figure under the sheets withdrew, walking out the door silently, Darren not even bothering to look up in the darkness that surrounded him, only feeling the pleasure still from the release. The figure closed the door, licking lips to swallow the remnants of the sperm. It wasn't a woman. It was a male. It was Jethran.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Last Path: Chapter Seven ''Hesitation''**

 _''How could I have done such a thing, knowing that it is wrong. The urge and lust so big I couldn't resist. To tread on territory even unknown to myself, a path I've never dared to walk before has finally opened''._ Jethran lowered his gaze to the floor and stood there in deep thought, contemplating why he engaged such an act with the Grand Assassin. He knew that if the man was to ever discover it was Jethran whom gave him this unimaginable pleasure, the man was prone to personally kill his Right Hand. And to no regret, Jethran knew it was worth it. Ever since they were young boys, when they both were in the Crows, Jethran developed a friendship with Darren, and that became stronger over the years. Although, even though both had enough share of bloodshed and fun with women, which surprises Jethran, that he of all people would fall for his best friend, was unsettling to himself. The thought disgusted him, but it felt right at the same time. He hesitated if he should come clean, or keep it to himself by the risk it may be discovered. After thoughts have passed his mind, he was oblivious to his surroundings, and he heard someone approaching. The figure saw it was Jethran, and Jethran quickly pulled his mask up to cover his features, to no avail. _''Oh, Jethran. Were you with Darren? Is he awake?''_ Loren asked, the woman evidently after the Grand Assassin. Perhaps solely physically, perhaps for a relationship, or for the power the man possessed. _''–-...He is..asleep. I went to see him for a mission, but he was asleep so I left again''._ She rubbed the side of her neck before she gazed over to the door, eventually turning on her heels and waving. _''Alright, thank you. I'll go by tomorrow, sleep well Jethran''._

Jethran breathed out in relief as he gazed around with coppery colored eyes and strut down the stairs back to his own quarters. The night passed slowly for him, but morning eventually arrived and the sun shined through the windows that weren't entirely covered by the curtains. Jethran oddly enough was gone the entire day, Maker knows why he wasn't at the headquarters, but it wasn't odd for an assassin in the Crows to take a day off and forget all about the bloodshed and burdens they carried with them. Darren himself woke up quite relaxed, his mind wasn't as heavy as before and he quickly got up and indulged his form with the Grand Asssassin gear. It was the same gear he had when he just started, but with alot of upgrades, for example enforced shoulderpads, leather that originates from Cerlaís, and daggers of cold subtle steel, along with a long cloak that could envelop his frame and make him as dark as a shadow. It looked rather exquisite on the male, leave alone his tanned skin color was an attractive feature many of the Crows lacked, all that joined were rather pale as they came from the less sunnier parts of Serynthal.

Darren had arranged a meeting for the evening, one that entailed the income of the Crows, their equipment, the safety of their headquarters, and contractors along with discussion of missions that were still available. These meetings were held now and then, but this one in particular was important, since they were to discuss who would go to the Crucible the next week. The Grand Assassin passed his day by sorting things out in the headquarters, inspection throughout the entire building to see if there was any sort of damage to the building, which filled in his day. At the evening, they all gathered in the meeting room with the table in the center a map was seen on. Eavan there, along with the more important individuals of the Crows, but Jethran wasn't there. Darren gazed around calmly to see if Jethran was standing with the rest, but he was no where to be seen. _''Has anyone seen Jethran?''._ Everyone shook their head and one spoke _''I saw him leave this morning''._ Darren folded his arms and his right hand tapped his chin thoughtfully before nodding. _''We'll continue without him then._ ''.Eavan looked at Darren with growing agitation that the assassin decided to leave his Right Hand out, but nevertheless, the grumpy old sod remained silent. _''Now then, The Crucible is coming up again, and we have to decide who will be taking part this year. We always do this on short notice so we do not panic about the choice, and other organisations are not informed untill the last moment. Security measure as you all know''_ , he says, his palms flattening onto the table as he gazes at everyone, the man seems to have quite alot of confidence, unlike when he just started as assassin. He climbed his way up and results were made. _''I think we're all pretty sure you should go, Darren, the Crucible is your thing, we know the risks, but you will survive, you can do it''._ Eavan casually adds without even bothering for consent, and the rest of the assassins seemed to be all nodding their heads in agreement. _''Eavan, you know that's not a risk we can take''._ The man sighed softly as he shook his head and gazed down at the map upon the table, his vibrant green eyes holding a dim glow to the pair. _''Not a risk we can take, but you know deep inside you have to do it regardless''._ Darren progressed the words of the older man, knowing he was right. He was right, and solely that fact annoyed the Grand Assassin. He wanted to avoid the Crucible as that is where Saren dissapeared, he didn't want to be reminded of it again after all the effort he had done to try forget the ordeal that occured there. But to be an assassin is to be amoral and not be bothered by emotions. He knew he had to see this through to improve himself.

Silence passed as eventually Darren succumbed and slammed a fist upon the table, his visual locking upon Eavan. _''Alright. I will matter is settled then. Now we'll continue onto the other things''._ An hour or two passed before the meeting was adjourned and the assassins all moved back to their stations to continue with their business. Darren went to take care of all the neccesary means, such as equipment, the horse carriage for transport to Vilewood once again. After all this was done, he took few days to train rather intensely, preparing himself for the tournament. It was a heavy burden for the leader. But he departed for the Crucible with few other assassins, leaving Eavan to lead in the meantime. As they arrived, he furrowed his black eyebrows and adjusted his mask and hood, along with few straps around his leathed clad chest, leaving the carriage and moving to the guards that were the same pair that stood there the year before. Darren remained silent as he took out the invitaton and offered it to the guards. The two looked eachother, one bulky, and one rather chubby before nodding and returning the invitation. _''In you go when you're ready, lad''._ The leather clad man inclined his head as he went back to his entourage and spoke to them. _''Observe. No interrupting. If I die, you return to Vadelore without question. Jethran will be the next leader, if he hasn't returned within two weeks, Eavan will be chosen''._ After these words, the man initially turned onto his heels and entered the Crucible, moving into the halls and sat himself onto a bench located near the wall, awaiting his turn. It was audiable enough that many were slain and didn't even pass the first two rounds, many corpses soaked in blood with un-humane wounds were dragged in before his eyes, however this didn't bother him. He was amoral to corpses and blood. The announcers eventually yelled Darren's name, however another name was given instead. _''Nancio''_ a rather plain, human name that certainly wouldn't raise any red flags, and it sufficed under the regulations of names. The gates opened and he strut inside, the audience thrilled and applauding the man that walked into the big field of drought sand. _''And here we go, Nancio has entered the arena. Now let's get started!''_ , Horace yelled, the crowds enthusiastic. Rounds passed as Darren reached the final round, stained with little as he is after all, the Grand Assassin, and proceeds his reputation and skills. _''Oooh, Hurley, Nancio made it to the final round, and the crowd is going wild! Now we bring the last contester to go against Nancio! Eluvian!''._ Horace shouted out with utter thrill to his tone.

Darren stood there with his blades out in his hands, covered in blood as he gazed around before his vibrant green eyes landed onto Eluvian whom walked into the arena. The figure was clad black leather with crimson red accents, and downed a hood of his own, though not with a mask, the hood provided enough shadow, appearently he wasn't planning on letting anyone get close. Darren stared at the man, scanning over his frame to see possible weak spots in his gear, but he couldn't find any. A sharp inhale was heard before Eluvian charged at him, outwards to the side. Darren didn't had a good feeling about the name of the other as the other slashed at him and Darren managed to block him, but the other was unbelievably fast, unlike the others he fought. This man was well trained, he was for real. Darren let the other attack and attack, taking his time to see through the way of fighting the other had, eventually managing to apprehend and slice a pretty deep cut on the other's chest by a twisted turn of his body and his blades around himself like a tornado. The injured man spit on the ground as blood dripped down to the ground from the cut, now pushing it all and ran forth and eventually ducked down, sand blowing into the vibrant green eyes of Darren as he was overwhelmed by the blindness and couldn't locate the opponent. He was struck to the ground with a dagger that sank deep into his shoulderblade and bled him severely. _''You will die. Die like the rest. Unworthy of life''._ The stranger spoke to him as he hovered over Darren, the Grand Assassin grew uncomfortable, eyes closing, the words ominous and almost as if his opponent was malign at heart. Something repugnant. Darren shook his head before he launched the hilt of his dagger to the man's jaw to uppercut him, managing to push him off of himself. He groaned lowly to himself as he retaliated quickly and didn't allow the deep wound to get in his way. The fight was going on for long, and the crowd remained entertained throughout the entire fight that almost lasted an hour. Two of the most skilled men in all of Serynthal were having it at eachother, and it was a mere matter of time before one would fall. At long last the fight was nearing its end as the crimson clad opponent managed to remove the mask of Darren by the tip of his blade connecting with the fabric, luckily for Darren the steel not reaching his skin. Black long hairstrands became visable as the vibrant green eyes were upon the other. _''This ends now..''_ Darren spoke, determined as he lunged at the other whom was awaiting, and managed to counter the attack and quickly put Darren off-balance, pushing him down to the ground as the hood was moved down of Darren and the man held his dagger to the neck of the Crows' leader. _''Now you will die''._ Eluvian muttered, his words empty and threatening, but a moment of pause went by. The opponent's blue eyes gazed across the features of the other, morely at the fact elven ears were revealed. _''..D-..Darren..-..Elven?''._ His tone now clearer, and he let go of the elf, moving back onto his feet as his eyes were widened, staring in complete surprise at the man that crawled upto recover, the other returning the same stare. _''..You. YOU. Where have you been?! Bas'vas..! I knew it. Eluvian means Lost..''_ He shouted out, though only audiable for his opponent to hear. The opponent stood there, weapons still within his hands, his blue eyes shifting color, to a crimson red as if personallity was change, a hand moving to his forehead. _''..No..I can't...-...-YOU WILL DIE''._ At sudden he made a strike at Darren and the other didn't defend himself, he didn't want to harm the other. But instead of harm, he went out of his way to evade the attacks made, and made a way to knock the other out. _''Eluvian is down~!_ '' Horace yelled. Darren stood still with widened eyes as the man fell before his eyes down to the ground, badly injured, just as himself, but it felt like nothing at the moment.

Luckily, it wasn't mandatory in the final round to murder eachother to be made the winner of the Crucible as the organisations of the opponent paid quite alot to keep their favourite fighter alive, along with the fact that it was good for sponsoring. The crowd ofcourse didn't mind it that much, they had seen enough bloodshed for tonight. _''Nancio wins, and so ends the Crucible for this year, amazing!''_ Darren took the liberty of carring the unconscious body of the other, the elf infact possessing the same height as a normal human being, along with a trained agile, muscular body that wouldn't betray his elven origin, slightly thinner, but not strikingly. He was allowed to move to a seperate room within the Crucible where they could spruce eachother up, take a bathe, converse, rest, anything of the relevance. He placed the crimson clad man down onto the stone that had sheets upon them along with a headroll, leaving the man to rest there untill he would awaken. At this time, Darren took the chance to remove his upper armor and attend to his wounds, teeth gritting as his back was turned towards the stranger, dipping a piece of cloth in alcohol and softly pressing it against the wound on his shoulder. He won, atlast, just like Eavan said he would, but he didn't feel happy about doing so. This..stranger. This wasn't good. Darren was too lost in his own thoughts he couldn't hear the man behind him get up and quickly move towards him, instantly pushing the assassin against the wall, wrists gripped as the warm breathe of the other fell upon his tanned flesh that is his neck. _''Elven. Little puny elf..- how did I not know''._ Darren sucked in breath of fear, a feeling he hasn't felt for very long. The black strands draped down and swooped over his features, now covering the elven ears once again _._ Blonde strands were seen in the corner of the vibrant green eyes of Darren, breathing abruptly as the man moves both of Darren's hands down his back, needing only one hand to lock the pair together. The other hand running along the neck of Darren, down to the rear of the other. _''What are you..doing..S-.._ '' The elf felt lips of the other caressing the skin of his neck, disgusting raised up inside of him, another man doing such an act with him, his stomach turned completely. _''Stop it, damn you. Where have you been? Tell me where you have been Saren!''._ Darren demanded, he wanted answers. _''Saren is no more''._ Saren is no more, the words felt so empty once again, but with such a familiar voice..


	8. Chapter 8

**_The Last Path : Chapter Eight_** ** _"Past Memories"_**

Being incapicated and helpless is one thing an assassin finds most degrading, one of a thousand being trained in the most difficult of ways, detached from emotions, and perpetually striving for improvement. He could be marked a failure for feelings he thought he hid surfaced again, though a dire situation as this one may excuse the fact. He was struggling, conflicted and it was most strenuous for him that he could not pose any resistance, no succes in escaping from this individual. It was not actually the mere validation he was inept to flee, but that the man that taught him everything he knew was the person that was conducting such an atrocity.

Darren his head was tilted to the side, the left part of his face pressed against the wall like the front of his body, breathing shallowly. The green verdant eyes were narrowed as he groaned lowly, staring vaguely at Saren that still let his tongue run across the olive tanned skin of the elven neck, sensually and almost affectionally. One could note throughout thorough observation that Saren his eyes were still colored a blood red, which is not his real eye color, and even someone like the Grand Assassin could make out foul magic was at play, considering the elves have created magic and it practically stains their roots. Saren guided the tip of his tongue towards the brim of Darren his neck, towards the earlobe to eventually nibble onto the tender flesh, keeping both hands of the elf still locked within his single hand. Darren grit his teeth together as his eyelids lowered slightly in reluctance, feeling the other hand of his former mentor run along his chest and downwards, causing a sharp inhale.

The pressure added against his injury was not beneficial, the deep wound on Darren's right shoulder remained open and uncared for as it only gaped and bled, weakening the man gradually. Strands of ebony black were messy in construct and grime from dust and blood, brushed back by the digits of Saren. Eventually the assassin parted his lips and spoke in a low tone; _''Saren. I know you are in there, remember me, remember who you are, friend..- come back to us''._ The older male took a moment of pause in his movements and closed his eyes in struggle, eventually releasing Darren as the male sank down to the floor and pressed his hands against his forehead. '' _You..need to leave, Darren. I c-can't stop it''._ The elf frowned mildly as he lowered himself before Saren, not planning to leave, not even considering to lose his friend again. He sighed softly as he reached his hands out to take the wrists of the other and guide them aside to visualize the features of the blonde haired male. _''Look, Saren, I know you can do this, remember who you are. Don't let anything stop you from being you. Fight this''._

The other initiated force to take his arms back, eyes closed tightly as groans escaped his lips in pain as he was fighting the thing that controlled him, some sort of mind magic that was creating constant searing and no matter what he tried it would still be in vain. It was an unpleasant sight to be hold and Darren felt helpless he could not do anything, except for speaking. It appeared that the more Saren fought against the indoctrination, the more it hurt, it was the most heartbreaking view that Darren could imagine and he was about to lose it. The elf crawled forth towards Saren and remained on his knees, few inches away from the other's face. _''We need you. Everyone in the Crows needs you. Eavan. Jethran. I..''._ Saren pressed his palms against his head as he listened, fighting even harder as he pressed himself back against the wall, conflicted and most definitly trying to overcome ancient magic.

Saren began to hiss lowly, the words he tried to bring through were rather blurred, unable to comprehend them. He couldn't articulate them despite his efforts, his voice trembling as his throat began to clear as if it was constricted, feeling the sensation of life drawing out of his body. The verdant blue eyes were closed shut, escaping from reality, only thin narrowed slits appeared as he eventually took a glance towards Darren with welled eyes. Nobody could ever guess the former Grand Assassin would be able to fall this low and present himself so vulnerable, nobody would have predicted the man could ever be indoctrinated by magic, but they all knew he was strong, he would be intrepid and could overcome this moment. The smallest flickers of tears were visualized, streaming down the pale skin in rivers that made the skin look pristine, urged to weep away and soothen the man, Darren blamed himself.

A small sigh escaped the elf's lips as he crouched closer, finding it difficult to not let his thoughts wander off to draw the most dangerous conclusions of what kind of magic was at play, shaking his head as he initially spoke in a soft, soothing tone that rang with emotion; _''Remember the time in Eservylle? You taught me how to fight, use my surroundings and take advantage of them. Do you recall shortly after that you decided I was to be your student?''._ Darren mustered a smile upon his lips, his eyes softened, remaining to speak in hope to break through the wall build around Saren's mind, and it seems to be having an effect. A black shadow began to amass from behind the human, slithering up the wall and eventually dispersing. That single moment distracted Darren as the source of it felt strong in presence, it felt like an abundance of negative, black magic. Briefly after his eyes flicked back to Saren only to find the male completely passed out, paler than pale, his body having draped to the side to reside upon the frigid cold stone, making the warm skin turn gradually lifeless. It hit the Grand Assassin that the shadow that left Saren presumably was the host, the single essence that put the chains and strings on the older male to command him like a pawn. Darren breathed out and seemed to panic, trailing his hands over Saren to lift him and place him back within the sill of the bed, near the window, having difficulty as his shoulderwound gaped and stretched, aching and draining his stamina.

He was determined to help Saren this time, no more, no more strange accurances and other ominous activities would he allow to take place. He was adamant on keeping Saren in sight all time now, he never could forgive himself, nor could he experience such an ordeal ever again and walk around with a heavy burden that doomed him everyday. The passed out man was unconscious, shallow breathing heard, alive, and seemingly on the brim of death. The right arm of Saren fell downwards and exposed was his skin, a black mark was found, a single black skull with several snakes coiling inside the skull and outwards, eyes blinked as he narrowed them in perusal. _''I remember this. That night. The assassin-...Skull Reign''._ Skull Reign. Why does he have the same mark, what does this mean? Did Skull Reign plan to use Saren and dispose of him afterwards the work was done? Darren needed time to think, but now, he needed to get Saren back to the Crows, and with haste.


End file.
